Of Borrowed Shirts and Bad Chinese Food
by coffeebuddha
Summary: Ryan doesn't know how the witness came to the conclusion that he and Esposito are a couple, but they really aren't. No, really.


It's Beckett's fault, really. Her and her unnatural observational skills.

The shirt should have been a non issue, but that day when Beckett looks up from the latest dead body to fall at their feet and gets her first real look at him, her lips twitch and she arches an eyebrow.

"Run out of clean clothes, Ryan?"

"What do you mean?" Ryan looks down at the shirt he borrowed from Esposito that morning and automatically runs his hands down his front, smoothing the fabric. It's a little too big on his smaller frame, and it's distracting to wear something that smells so much like his partner. Every time he moves, he catches Esposito's scent, something darker and heavier than just detergent, and he pauses, expecting to find the other man at his side. But aside from that, he doesn't see that there's anything wrong with it. It's just a plain, button up shirt. There's certainly nothing unusual about it, but when he looks back up, Beckett grins and flicks a spot under the collar.

"If you ask nicely, maybe next time Esposito will let you borrow something he hasn't stained. Of course, the real question has to be why you were raiding his closet to begin with."

Ryan looks blankly at Beckett. A few feet to their left, Esposito pauses and glances up from where he's interviewing a prim, older woman. So what if he's wearing Esposito's shirt? It's not like it's strange or means anything. With all the nights they've spent unwinding together with beer and bad take out food after a long day, it would be weird if they _didn't_ occasionally fall asleep on each other's couches. And it wouldn't have made sense for him to go all the way to his own place just to get a change of clothes when Esposito had a dresser full of things that more or less fit him right there. Besides, he would have had to take a cab to get to his apartment and back to the station in time for his shift. Taking the shirt was simply the environmentally and fiscally responsible thing to do.

He opens his mouth, ready to tell Beckett exactly that, but, before he can, Esposito's witness leans forward to clasp his arm and loudly says, "It's so nice that the two of you can share clothes. My son and his boyfriend are nowhere near the same size. That must save you both a lot of money."

Ryan sputters while Esposito takes the woman by the elbow and leads her a little further away to finish the interview, although her voice still carries back to Ryan when she comments about what a 'cute couple' they make. Beckett's shoulders shake silently as she gestures vaguely behind herself and mumbles something about needing to talk to Lanie. Ryan's fingers twitch against the shirt and he shuffles in place, a little at a loss. One thing's for certain though. If Castle doesn't stop laughing soon, Ryan's going to have to shoot at him again, and this time he won't miss.

* * *

"Can you believe she thought we were together," Ryan asks later that night while they're lounging on Esposito's couch with several cartons of Chinese food. There's a game turned on low in the background, but neither of them are really paying that much attention to it. He carefully picks up a bit of mu shu pork and holds it out to Esposito. "Try this. I think they changed something in the sauce."

"If you drip that on my cushions, you're the one who's going to clean it up," Esposito says as he lightly touches the back of Ryan's hand, steadying the chopsticks, and takes the proffered bite. He chews for a moment, his head tilted thoughtfully to the side, then nods. "Yeah, there's definitely something different there. I think I like it better, though." He reaches around Ryan to spear another piece of chicken from his take out carton, grinning triumphantly when Ryan tries to pull it out of his reach too late. "That lady was off her rocker, bro. I wouldn't dwell on it too much. I mean, unless you secretly want me or something."

Esposito clasps Ryan's shoulder and leans forward to earnestly look him in the eye, the effect nearly ruined by a splotch of sauce at the corner of his mouth. "I know I'm pretty irresistible, but you're not exactly my type."

Ryan knocks his hand away and rolls his eyes. "Oh, please," he scoffs. Ryan grabs a napkin and dabs at the sauce. "A slob like you? You'd be lucky to get someone as out of your league as me."

Esposito starts to twist away, his upper lip curling in an exaggerated grimace, and Ryan's fingers brush Esposito's cheek, a day's worth of stubble prickly against his skin. A jolt of electricity rushes through him and Ryan pauses. The smirk slips off his face, and when Esposito's dark, serious eyes meet his, his breath whooshes out all at once. His hand lingers a heartbeat too long before he snatches it away, too fast to be natural. He bounces on the couch once, his legs ready to propel him to his feet and his lips already forming his excuses, but Esposito has him by the wrist and is pulling him back down before he can make his escape.

"She doesn't know anything about us. She was just talking. Don't make this into something weird," Esposito says. His voice is low and intense in a way that Ryan has always associated with interrogating suspects, but now it's suddenly all too easy to imagine it in a darkened bedroom, husky and hot against his skin. He swallows thickly, unable to control the thrill that dances down his spine. Esposito's eyes flicker over him, not missing a thing, and his fingers tighten around his wrist. "I know we've been spending a lot more time together since Jenny dumped you, but that doesn't mean anything. We're partners, right? That's what partners do. They stick around until the wheels fall off, especially during the hard times."

"The break up was mutual," Ryan protests absently, his brain replaying the way Esposito sounded saying the word 'hard' on a loop. Maybe he's slipping deeper into the dip of the couch cushion or maybe Esposito's somehow pulling him in, but Ryan can't ignore the fact that they're nearly hip to hip now, so close that he can feel the heat radiating off of Esposito down his entire side. It tingles, which is weird because Esposito's never made him tingle before. Not that Ryan's noticed, at least. Not that he spends a lot of time pressed up against Esposito, checking for tingling. But there it is. Tingling. And really, what can you do once things start tingling?

Esposito rolls his eyes, but his thumb gently strokes back and forth across the delicate skin at the inside of Ryan's wrist. "Not really my point, dude."

"Right." Ryan's eyes lock with Esposito's. For a moment, there's a low roar in his ears that he's distantly aware is a swelling cheer on the television, but then it's as if the world falls away around them and his focus narrows to the feel of Esposito's skin against his and those dark, dark eyes. He licks his lips, his pulse jumping when Esposito's eyes flit down to watch. "What was your point again?"

"That we're still us." Esposito's breath is hot and damp on his face, and he smells like sweet and sour chicken, which is nice, because Ryan's always liked sweet and sour chicken, and he leans in, hungry for more. "Exactly the same as we've always been."

Ryan nods, and that's all it takes to make their lips brush together. Esposito's grip is tight, too tight, on his wrist, but his lips are gentle, almost tentative. Ryan's hands slide up over his stomach and chest, so hard and angular everywhere that Jenny was soft and round, and he flattens his palm over his heart, certain he can feel the beat of it. Esposito's free hand settles at the side of his neck, and the faint scrape of his callouses makes Ryan shiver. He inhales, intoxicated by the scent that's been enveloping him and driving him crazy all day, and he presses closer, nearly clinging to the other man. Because this is real, because this is Esposito and they're kissing and he's never thought about this before, was never allowed to think about it before, and he isn't sure if this is what he wants, but he knows he doesn't want to stop.

Esposito's thumb traces along the curve of the back of Ryan's ear, his touch feather light, and Ryan's up on his knees, one leg between Esposito's thighs, nearly completely in his lap. The kiss deepens until Ryan's light headed, and for one dizzying moment he's afraid he's going to fall, but then Esposito's hands are on his hips, steadying him. He wants more, so much more-closer, harder, faster until all he can feel is Esposito surrounding him-and he moans low when Esposito's fingers hook into his belt loops and pull him tighter against him, Ryan's weight pressing him back against the arm of the couch.

Ryan isn't entirely certain which one of them tries to roll over, but one moment they're on the couch and the next they're crashing down onto the floor. There's something hard jabbing into Ryan's side, and his breath is gone from Esposito landing on top of him. It takes a second before Esposito comes back to his senses enough to push himself up so that he's straddling Ryan's hips, and another before Ryan's able to catch his breath. Somewhere above him, Esposito makes a dazed sort of 'huh' noise, and Ryan looks up at him. He doesn't even try to contain the laughter that bubbles up in his throat when Esposito plucks a lo mein noodle that's dangling from his ear. There's an overturned carton on the coffee table that they must have knocked over when they fell, and Esposito wrinkles his nose and tosses the noodle on top of it.

The mood broken, Esposito climbs off of Ryan and plops back on the couch. Ryan's skin tightens at the sudden loss of his heat, but he's more immediately concerned with squirming away from Esposito's foot when it nudges him in the ribs, trying to get him to stop laughing, than getting that heat back. When his laughter simmers down to the occasional chuckle, Ryan lets Esposito haul him back onto the couch, although this time they're at near opposite ends. The last of Ryan's laughter dies on his lips when he looks at Esposito again.

The corners of the other man's mouth are unusually tight, his face drawn, but he forces a joking smile when he says, "I swear I didn't invite you over tonight to seduce you."

"Good," Ryan says, his own smile a little more genuine. "Because if that was your seduction technique, you're in for some serious trouble."

"It worked on you," Esposito shoots back, his tension cracking a little. The corners of Ryan's lips curve up and he half nods.

"You lucked out. I'm that easy."

"No, you're not," Esposito says. He makes a soft noise low in his throat and reaches out, his hand hovering a hair's breadth away from touching Ryan's face. He scans Ryan's expression, looking for some sign of approval or rejection, and cups his cheek when his smile doesn't waver. "Where does this leave us?"

"What do you mean," Ryan asks. Esposito doesn't move, but his hand tenses against Ryan's cheek, and Ryan loosely curls his fingers around his wrist before he can pull away. "Like you said, we're still partners and we're still us. You're not getting rid of me anytime soon, so you might as well learn to live with me."

Esposito laughs quietly and bends in to kiss him again. The kiss is light, almost chaste this time, and they're both grinning like idiots when Esposito pulls back.

"So. Now what," Ryan asks, relaxing back against the corner of the couch. Esposito slides over the rest of the way until they're side to side again and glances at the television.

"Madden?"

Ryan blinks at Esposito, who arches a challenging eyebrow at him. There's still enough undisturbed food on the coffee table to last them through a few games, they have the whole next day off, and Esposito is warm and comfortable and happy beside him. This feels good. No, it feels more than good. It feels right, like home. He picks a stray noodle out of Esposito's hair and shrugs. "Why not?"

* * *

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